Blind Man's Buff
by firewaterspaceairearth
Summary: Set in the time during the Conference Call. Featuring Mr Maitland, bigger-on-the-inside pockets and the Doctor at his most confusing. Before Angie and Artie manage to confuse him, of course.


_If you recognise it, it's not mine._

* * *

"Clara? Clara!"

The Doctor stepped back from the door, before knocking on it again.

"Clara? Are you in there? I've got this great idea, we could go to Freedonia- no, hang on, that was a clever line in 1599, might have nicked it off the Marx Brothers, lovely fellows..."

An old lady watering her plants next door sent him a funny look. The Doctor waved cheerfully at her, before knocking on the door again.

"Clara!"

The door swung open.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

A teenage girl leaned in the door frame, chewing on a piece of gum.

"Oh. Hello, Angie. Is Clara in?"

"Yeah."

"Can you get her?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"She's asleep."

The Doctor frowned. Artie shoved his sister out of the way, waving a piece of paper at him.

"She was holding this. It's blank, though."

The Doctor took it, and read the paper slowly, taking in the elegant handwriting.

_'Doctor, kindly do not wake Clara. I required her consciousness for an important discussion. She will explain to you at a later date. Vastra.'_

He sniffed the paper, before pointing the sonic screwdriver at it. The kids looked on in confusion as he muttered to himself.

"Ok, multi-layered psychic paper, programmed to respond to a variety of mindsets. Very clever, Vastra."

Artie craned his neck out of the door, eyes widening as he caught sight of the TARDIS.

"Cool! Can we have another go?"

The Doctor shook his head, shooing the two children inside. He closed the door firmly.

"No. No, nope, definitely not. No."

Disappointed looks followed, and a flustered looking man stepped into the hall. He was wearing odd socks, and his tie was half-undone round his neck. He was holding a whisk and an egg.

"Angie? Artie? Who was at the door?" He stopped as he spotted the Doctor.

"Who are you?"

"Hello! Mr Maitland, I presume? Lovely to meet you, I'm the Doctor-_ow_!" He broke off as Angie stamped on his foot. Artie stepped forward, smirking slightly.

"He's Clara's boyfriend."

Mr Maitland frowned at the egg in his hand.

"Oh. Right. That's... Where is Clara? I thought she was cooking?"

"Power nap?" the Doctor suggested. Angie and Artie's father frowned again, this time at the whisk.

"Angie, Artie, I don't suppose you know where my shoes are?"

Wordlessly, the two kids pointed at a pair of scuffed brown loafers. Mr Maitland handed the egg to Artie, the whisk to Angie, and stuffed the shoes onto the wrong feet.

"Kids, I need to go next door, Mrs Arnold was talking about me fixing her top? No, that's not it. Her tap. That's it. Leaky tap. Don't blow anything up while I'm gone."

"I'll look after them for a while if you like?" the Doctor offered sheepishly. Mr Maitland nodded, as if trying to remember who he was, before stepping outside.

"Thank you! I might be some time, I don't know anything about taps. Or tops. Thank you, Mr..."

"Doctor. Just the Doctor." the Doctor said to a closed door. He turned to the kids. Angie sighed, putting the whisk on a nearby shelf.

"Dad's kinda absent-minded."

"I noticed," the Doctor muttered.

"Your neighbour, Mrs Arnold, she doesn't live on the left does she? Likes watering plants?"

Artie nodded. The Doctor bit his lip, deciding not to say anything. Instead, he pointed at the egg and the whisk, halfheartedly juggling them.

"Why was your dad holding an egg and a whisk to go next door?"

Artie shrugged, while Angie rolled her eyes.

"Clara must've left them. She was trying to make a souffle, again."

The Doctor put down the whisk, peering at Angie.

"Souffles?"

"She makes them all the time. They never work, but she keeps trying," Artie piped up. "She makes the best hot chocolate in the universe, though."

"Souffles? She's the girl who makes souffles... A sort of, souffle girl?"

"Don't start," Angie sighed. "She went all weird this morning, before she got the letter. Something about puddings, and her mum. Crazy."

"What did you mean, anyway? What's psychic paper? Who's Vastra?" Artie interrupted. The Doctor flapped his hand, attempting to change the subject.

"A lizard woman from the dawn of time, it says whatever you want. The paper that is, not Vastra."

"There's a film on at the cinema, about the dawn of time. Or something. It looks really good," Artie hinted heavily.

"Can we go? We'll be back before dad, knowing him he'll end up getting the fire service called like when he tried to fix the fridge."

"No, no, no," the Doctor said, attempting to stare down both children, head flicking from side to side. Eventually he ended up cross-eyed and shook his head sternly.

"Nope. Definitely not, no cinema. Not til Clara wakes up. This is me being very firm, see this? I'm very firm about this. Call me Mr Firm. Actually, don't, I'm the Doctor, but you get my point. No cinema. Clear?"

Angie smirked at her brother. Artie nodded. After a brief silent conversation, Angie turned to the Doctor.

"Ok, then. I don't suppose you know how to play Blind Man's Buff?"

The Doctor beamed, rummaging through his pockets.

"Great idea! I've got a scarf here somewhere... Let's see... I've got a spare exploding bauble, my glasses, oh, that's where my library card got to..." As the pile of stuff mounted on the shelf, Angie and Artie exchanged looks.

"What's that?"

"A Dalek weapons function."

"What's a Dalek?"

"One of the most deadly aliens in the universe- no idea why it's in my pocket."

"How does all that even fit?"

"They're bigger on the inside- found it!" He waved a scarf in the air. "It's not as good as my old one, I _did_ tell the Brigadier it was only a loan... Anyway, who's going first?"


End file.
